


Listen

by Fandomruler1998 (orphan_account)



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Angsty angsty angst, Apologies, Bad Wolf, Bad Wolf Rose Tyler, F/M, Heed the tags here be angst, I'm Sorry, Lots of Angst, Mentions of Bad Wolf, Please dont kill me, it came to me when i was washing dishes thats all i know, kill the plot bunny, like i said dont kill me, out of character swearing, rose travels with him again, so... rose dies, the twelfth doctor gets mad, to me it just seems like he would have a temper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:43:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Fandomruler1998
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Once again, Rose and the Doctor were in the TARDIS, just as they should be.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <em>But again, it didn’t last long.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Listen

London, circa 2531, Original Universe. Era of the Twelfth Doctor.

* * *

London wasn’t beautiful. Not with all the trash, and smog, and… humans around. He remembered when it was bustling in the 21st century, when it was ‘the center of the world’ in the 16th, and when it was just a forest as this planet was still being considered a baby. Yes. The Doctor remembered. He always remembered. And that meant he never forgot a face.

But the face he just saw, the face he just saw, was impossible, no-way-no-how. His impossible girl.

His Rose.

Because while Clara had been the Impossible Girl, she was never his, nor did he ever wish her to be, even if she had. She had just been a way to forget.

And forget he did. Until he remembered. Remembered that all his companions were dead, or good as. Remembered that some had left, or been left. Remembered that some had loved… and been loved in return.

But no matter how much he loved, that face was impossible, no matter the year or the place. Sure, he and Rose had visited London plenty and across all times. But that face wasn’t youthful enough to be his Rose pre-Universe’s-possible-end. This was the Rose of the new-old Doctor, the Meta-Crisis of his Tenth self.

She had stayed with him, in the other Universe, so how was she here? Unless- maybe it wasn’t her.

All this rationalising, reasoning, and thinking took place in the handful of seconds the Doctor took in between seeing “Rose” and following “her”. His red lined coat-tails flapped behind him like his old bygone coat as he ran after the alien being that was masquerading as an older Rose, ducking through the crowded London streets, now even busier because of the upcoming Christ-mass festival. (‘Christmas was her favourite holiday,’ his Tenth and Ninth self whispered in tandem.)

He managed to catch up to the Rose impersonator and grabbed her left arm, soon dragging her into the alley on their right.

She struggled in his grip, her upper arm going stiff as the muscles there tensed beneath his fingers. Whatever it was, it wasn’t any stronger than the average human female.

The Doctor swung “Rose” around until it’s back was to the wall, and slammed it against the faux bricks between two trash heaps, using his forearm across her shoulders to hold her to it. The smell instantly gave him a headache (littering never did get any better). He heard a dull thud as its head connected with the hard wall.

The Doctor drew out his sonic-screwdriver with his free hand and scanned it, but the readings were off- the zygon, or shapeshifter, or whatever the bloody hell it was actually registered as a 21st century human, with just the tiniest blip signifying that maybe it wasn’t the human it thought itself to look like. He healed the minor contusion on the back of it’s head- injuries tended to cause inaccuracies during interrogations.

“Who are you?” the Doctor demanded, his brogue thicker than ever, though if it was with fury or just the myriad of emotions that were affecting him at seeing any version of Rose, fake or not, after so long, bugger if he could tell.

“R-Rosamund Taylor,” the girl- thing stammered.

“Oh no. I don’t think so.” The Doctor seethed. “I know you aren’t from this century, and I definitely know you can’t be from the 21st, if you are indeed human, like this little device-”  he gestured with his screwdriver “-says you are. So tell me. Who. Are. You?”

“Please sir. I already told you. My name is Rosamund Taylor. I-I live with my mum. I love traveling. Please sir, let go of me. You’re hurting me,” the girl stammered, her voice trembling with fear.

The Doctor loosened his grip on the girl, but only slightly. He wasn’t a monster after all.

“See, I have a problem with all of that, because I sincerely doubt that any of it is true. As you know, I've already scanned you, and you showed up as being from the 21st century, and from my vast knowledge on that time period, I know you can’t be from there- inferior anti-aging technology. There’s also the fact that the girls face you happen to be wearing is stuck in a parallel universe.” The Doctor had only grown more impassioned during his speech , once again pressing the girl into the bricks without seeming to have realized it.

The girl on the other hand, she lost the fear that showed plain as day in her face, and in its place came an expression of suspicion and a cautious wonder.

“No, it can’t be you,” ‘Rosamund Taylor’ murmured.

“What do you mean, it can't be me?” The Doctor snapped. “There is only one of me, while apparently, there are two of you!”

“Doctor?”

If anything else had come out of her mouth, the Doctor couldn’t have been more surprised.

“Doctor, please, just let go of me. I guess there is some explaining to do from both of us.”

* * *

They were in some sort of cafe (the kind that his previous two selves would have adored and which his ninth self would have only tolerated for Rose), with mugs filled with milky tea in front of them both, sitting at a secluded table for two.

“So, Doctor, did you ever go ginger?” Rose said, trying to make a joke that fell decidedly flat.  “Cause I can tell quite obviously that you’ve regenerated.”

The Doctor winced at the mention of ‘ginger’. Red hair and freckles brought forth pain two-fold, in the memories of Donna and Amy, both of whom he had managed to lose.

Rose noticed of course. Her older, but still beautiful, face fell a bit and she lost her forced grin. She sighed. “He told me you were dead. Or well, dying.”

“What? Who?” The Doctor asked.

“Your meta-crisis. The other Doctor.” Rose took a deep breath to steady herself. “He told me you were going to die. He didn’t say how, or when, but he said that after losing all of us, you just wouldn’t want to live anymore.”

The Doctor was dumbstruck. After everything, that Doctor, the one who stayed with Rose, would tell her something that would hurt her so much?

“Doctor, stop it,” Rose said, shaking her head. “You know exactly how much you loved me. You would have done anything to keep me safe. And if that meant making sure I didn’t go after you, then… you’d have done it.”

The way she spoke told the Doctor everything.

“He told you soon after I left then?”  
Rose snorted quietly. “Try sooner than that. You hadn’t even left the beach yet.”

“That’s what he whispered to you?” The Doctor was aghast. All he could think was ‘How could you?’ on a constant loop.

“Right on the nose, Doctor.” Rose smiled again, but it was tight and pained.

The Doctor reached across the table and placed his hand over hers, which was lying by her mug. “Rose, I'm… I'm sorry. I-I didn't know, or else I wouldn’t have left-”

“Doctor, stop.” She turned her hand under his so that they could hold hands properly. “It’s not your fault.”

He dragged his other hand down his face, then hung his head. Time for the coup de grâce of all questions.

“How long did you have with him?” The Doctor held his breath, waiting for the laughably (painfully) small number, because she still looked so young…

“Fifty years.”

The Doctor’s head snapped up, while his eyebrows did that weird scrunch-down-lift-up thing that he hated. “Fif-Fifty?”

Rose nodded, with a hint of her signature smirk on her face. “I look quite good for 231, don't I?”  
“Rose, that’s impossible, how are you still-”

“Alive?” Rose interrupted. “I'm not another Cassandra, before you ask. I have two words for you.’ She swallowed nervously. “Bad Wolf.”

The Doctor was stunned. All that time? All his reasons invalid in just a few seconds?

“How-?” The Doctor started, but choked on his own words, too many questions trying to force their way out.

“How did it happen? How did we find out?” Rose finished.

The Doctor could only nod, lost in his litany of questions.

“I think it happened all that time ago when I held the TARDIS’s heart. You know how I managed to hold her in for longer than you?” The Doctor gave her an odd look, thinking Rose couldn’t know about that. “I’ll explain in a minute, okay?” Rose said, placating the Doctor. “I held the TARDIS in me longer, and I didn’t die. But to do that, I think I had to change, at least a little bit. Not to more Time Lord, ‘cause remember you died, but me and the other Doctor thought I might be more TARDIS-like.”

The Doctor could only gape at her. After blinking a few times, he managed to ask, “And how did you find out?”

Rose smiled. “Now there’s a story that Jack would be proud of. Lots of action, though a distinct lack of nudity. I think those are trademarked to him nowadays. Anyway, long story short, I got shot. But I didn't die. Instead I just… shut down. I was like that for a few days, along with glowing like Bad Wolf for a few days on and off. He was so scared.” Rose got a far-away look in her eyes, reminiscing on bygone years. “He told me what happened with the Daleks then, how I was the one that destroyed them.”

They both sat in silence then, the cafe still moving around them, but they were in their own bubble of space and time, a flagrant disregard of quantum physics not bothering them in the least.

“One last question then,” the Doctor said, already regretting leaving Rose. Hadn’t even left the table and missing her already, the Doctor thought, scoffing to himself. Rose looked crestfallen as well.

“When did it happen?” the Doctor asked looking down at his cuppa, so quiet and soft that Rose could barely hear him from across the table.

Rose fiddled with her mug. “It actually happened pretty soon after you left. Maybe five, ten years?”

The Doctor was torn- happy for her, since she had had at least a few years as a normal human being, not that she had actually ever been or wanted to be normal, and angry at himself, both of him, for having allowed Rose to get hurt and call ‘five or ten years’ short.

The Doctor straightened once he realized something. He wouldn’t stay young as she grew old.

He began to smile. “A last request seeing as I’ve used my last question.” The Doctor squeezed Rose’s hand. “Come with me?”

“No,” Rose said. “I’ll run with you.”

* * *

And so once again, Rose and the Doctor were in the TARDIS, just as they should be.

But again, it didn’t last long.

Of course, there were epic battles, long runs, simple strolls (they were getting old now, weren’t they? They deserved the break), and dates that used to not be acknowledged but were now reveled in.

It was wonderful. It was beautiful.

And it ended.

It was one of the epic battles, guns rat-a-tat-tat-ing all around them, adrenaline and the Time Lord equivalent rushing through their hearts. The Doctor was doing something that Rose was sure he had explained but had flown right over her head.

Then she got shot.

Whether it was enemy or friendly fire the Doctor never managed to find out. All he knew at the time was that one minute, Rose was crouching beside him, watching his back and offering pointers, the next she was flat on her back, blood darkening her blouse all across her abdomen.

The Doctor was flustered- he wasn’t that kind of doctor- sonicing her then applying pressure to the wound, blood seeping between his fingers onto the floor on either side of Rose’s body.

Tears filled his eyes and throat, blocking his voice. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and managed to choke out. “It’s fine Rose, you’ll be fine. You can't die, you can't , not this time, it was supposed to be different this time, you can't die.”

“Shh, shh, Doctor, it’s okay.” Rose crooned. She lifted one of her hands from beside her and brought it to his face, marking it with blood- her blood. “Don’t be sad. Got to be together at last, yeah? We did great.” Her eyes were soft and loving as the Doctor spoke again.

“You weren’t supposed to die, Rose.”

“You know that’s not true, Doctor. I was always supposed to die. And I can’t think of any place better than in your arms.”  
“Rose-” he said, tears staining his voice once again and gathered her in his arms, no longer paying any notice to the hole in her stomach.

“No, Doctor. There are always more of us. But there’s only one of you. If I could die instead of you, or die in place of you, that will have been the greatest thing I’ll have ever done.” Rose coughed weakly, blood bubbling at her lips, staining the wide usually smiling feature a much darker hue.

“Rose, I love you,” the Doctor whispered earnestly.

“I know. And I suppose since this is my last chance-” she arched slightly in pain in the Doctor’s arms- “I love you too.” She managed one last smile before her eyes drifted shut and her breath let out in a soft wet sounding gurgle.

The Doctor buried his face in her still warm neck and cried. He cried for old memories, for lost time, for his love, his Rose.

For the one who died with a smile on her face.

* * *

The Doctor was haunted.

Everywhere he went, he felt her, or something else. He would feel something at his back and he would whip around, sonic-screwdriver out- and nothing would be there.

But he never felt alone.

Eventually he began to discern two different beings- the warmth of Rose, and a colder presence that the Doctor couldn’t seem to place, but was ultimately familiar with. The warmth of Rose usually was able to keep away the chill of the unnameable thing. Even so, he still woke up in a cold sweat, Rose’s voice in his ear, with a malignant silence as the background noise.

He did research, combing through his library and absolutely destroying his organized chaos. Everywhere he looked, from theologies to chronologies, he saw that people couldn’t walk away from the fact that they may not be alone even if it looked as though they were- and not “not alone” in the ‘other intelligent life forms’ way. No, it was the ‘beware of the shadows, because they may not be as empty as you may think’ way. Even the Vashta Nerada were wary of some shadows. Now he never slept, and never heard or felt Rose. But that other presence, that colder presence, it dogged his footsteps like a shadow, never leaving him, always slinking around the edges of the room and in the corner of his eye.

The Doctor contemplated going back to one of his former companions, Sarah Jane- she would understand to expect this- or maybe Mickey and Martha, or even maybe his granddaughter Susan, wherever she may be. All of them would know not to ask too many questions while also knowing exactly what was going on..

Eventually, he went back to Clara, before her Danny Pink days, when she was still somewhat concerned with others beside herself. She would also know not to even ask questions about former adventures, a lesson well-learned from his eleventh self, or dare to mention when their next would be. She would be his companion, but not one of the ones who knew everything that mattered about him. She would be one of the companions that took him at his word and didn’t expect him to be at all similar to his previous selves, even though that lie about being ‘totally different’ was just that- a lie.

Yes, Clara would be the perfect one for this trip, simply because she was the only one who wouldn’t try to talk about the past.

* * *

“Doctor, how long have you been traveling alone?”

Too long, the Doctor thought. And not long enough.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So, some of you may be asking why did she die this time, and not last time, yes? Well, draw your own conclusions. Sorry. This is my head-canon and even I don't know all the details. Maybe it was a one-time deal -- she was living a pretty danger free life after the Doctor died and she came back here -- or maybe it was just too much of a shock to her system.  
> Others may be asking "How did she get back here?" I would like to direct you all to the deleted scene from that fateful episode on that beach. The Tenth Doctor gives Ten-2 a piece of the TARDIS -- in other words, Rose, with her new TARDIS-y knowledge, is able to come back on over on her own, lets it charge at Cardiff and goes to see the Universe before settling down in 2531.  
> That's all guys! Keep on being Whovians for me, yeah? Good!


End file.
